


A Knife and a Hard Place

by Penn_Dragon



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Crime Scenes, Grief/Mourning, Investigations, Lil being a badass, Murder, Serial Killers, Suicide Attempt, There's some liljo and proveles involved too but it's mostly just background stuff, general noir style stuff, honestly Meph might only appear as Providence's trophy husband we'll see, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 11:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penn_Dragon/pseuds/Penn_Dragon
Summary: When murders started turning up all over the country, Jonathan couldn't really find it in himself to be scared. Untouchable mass murderers were something you found in crime novels from the 80s, not real life. So even when victims started showing up closer to his city and the police advised that everyone practice caution while going about their days, he wasn’t really worried.He probably should have been.





	A Knife and a Hard Place

**Author's Note:**

> Alright here we go, it's been about a year since I started thinking about and planning this fic so wish me luck

Jonathan knew about the serial killer. Of course he did, how he could not? Every news station, every paper, every person was talking about it. It started somewhere near the west coast; a couple of murder cases turned up. Sad, but not that uncommon. More and more bodies piled up but still no trace of a culprit. Five months and fifteen murders later and still no killer. As far as anyone could tell the victims were random, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were all killed by multiple stab wounds with a simple knife. No fingerprints, no DNA, no evidence. No, what connected the murders was how the bodies were found. Drug from the spot of their death and posed, eyes closed, curled around their wounds as if they were only sleeping. News stations started calling him “The Sleepwalker,” picking his way across the country, leaving a trail of murders in his wake.

Jonathan knew all this, but it never quite seemed real. Untouchable mass murderers were something you found in crime novels from the 80s, not real life. So even when victims started showing up closer to his city and the police advised that everyone practice caution while going about their days, he wasn’t really worried.

He probably should have been.

It was a pretty normal, boring Wednesday night when his mom called him out of the blue. He was just pouring himself some coffee, preparing for an all-nighter to finish some paperwork he’d been neglecting. His phone chirped loudly from where he’d set it on the counter. Jonathan sighed and set the coffee pot down, snatching up his cell to check the caller ID. ‘Mom’ glared back at him in bright text. Jonathan blinked, and checked the time before answering. It was around 2AM where she was, whatever it was, it must be important.

“Hello?” The line was silent other than the subtle rustle of clothing. Jonathan tried again, “Mom?”

“ _Jonathan,_ ” his mom’s voice came out slightly wobbly over the phone, like she was trying very hard to sound normal, “ _have you talked to your sister recently_?”

“No.” Jonathan picked up his mug and turned so he could lean back on the counter. “Should I have?” It was kind of a weird question; he and Chris didn’t talk all that much outside of birthdays and family events.

“ _She was supposed to call me earlier and she didn’t._ ” Her voice was gaining a worried edge now, thin and fast. “ _She normally texts if she can’t make it, I tried calling but she didn’t pick up._ ”

“Mom,” Jonathan started awkwardly, “I’m sure she’s fine. She probably just had to work late or her phone died or something.” His mom sighed heavily on the other end.

“ _I know,_ ” she said finally, “ _I just worry, with you two so far away, and all this stuff happening…_ ” She trailed off.

Jonathan nodded, making a noise of agreement when he remembered she couldn’t see him. His mom kept up on the Sleepwalker case far more that he did. She always said there was power in knowledge, like knowing about the killer could help you avoid him. Jonathan, on the other hand, thought it was a waste of time. Somehow it seemed like using your free time to learn all about a rampaging maniac, and every time the police tried and failed to catch him, was more stress than it was worth. Jonathan let out a breath through his nose and set his mug down on the counter beside him so he could rub at his eyes.

“If you want, I can give her a call tonight. If she doesn’t call back, I’ll go to her apartment after work tomorrow and check on her.” Chris’ apartment was very out of his way, and he’d be more than a little irritated if he drove all the way there only to find out she’d stayed up all night binge-watching a TV show and forgot to call. But if it would make his mom relax enough to go to sleep and let him glare at his stack of paperwork in peace, he could deal with it.

“ _Thanks, Sweetheart, I appreciate it._ ”  

Jonathan picked his mug back up. “No problem. Now go to sleep, Mom.”

Gentle laughter hummed through the line as they said their goodbyes and Jonathan waited until he heard the soft click of the call ending before he pulled his phone away from his ear. He swallowed another gulp of bitter coffee as he scrolled through his contacts to pull up his sister’s phone number. As it dialed, he trudged over to sit heavily on his couch. It rang for a while before going to her answering machine, a personalized one. ‘ _Hi! You’ve reached Christian Combs, leave a message after the beep and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can._ ’ Jonathan had never bothered to record one himself, the default message was good enough.

The machine beeped.

“Hey, it’s Jonathan. Mom just called to tell me you hadn’t talked to her in a while and she’s worried.” Jonathan massaged his temple. “So just… call and let her know you’re not dead... I guess.” He tapped the ‘End Call’ button and set his phone on the coffee table. He really hated leaving voicemails.

Jonathan glared tiredly at the stack of paperwork in front of him waiting to be filled out. He should have been groggily signing papers, drinking coffee, and avoiding the temptation to turn the TV on, but now he just felt like going to bed. He shouldn’t be concerned, but he couldn’t help that the whole conversation had left him feeling a little on edge. His mom was a worrier; she always had been. She was just being herself. So why did he feel so uneasy?

Jonathan stared at the papers for a few seconds longer before pushing the stack away. It could be done in the morning. He stood up and poured the rest of the coffee down the sink, quickly rinsing the mug out. It was probably the caffeine making him jittery. He just needed to get some sleep—what Chris was probably doing, and what his mom should be doing. He was just getting himself too worked up.     

 

He didn’t finish his paperwork in the morning. Jonathan could be called many things, but a morning person wasn’t one of them. No matter how long he sat staring at the papers he couldn’t get the words to un-blur long enough for him to make sense of it. In the end he got maybe four sheets done before he needed to get ready. It wasn’t that bad really; he could finish it at work with the rest of the day’s tasks without much hassle once he woke up. He’d still probably get chewed out though.

He checked his phone once before he got in the shower, and three times after he got out: still no word from Chris. He checked the time on his phone, 7:30am. She usually got up pretty early for work and she always responded to messages in her downtime before she started teaching. It was starting to look more likely that he’d have to make the trek over to her apartment.

It was close to 8:00 when Jonathan finally made it out of his apartment. He was definitely going to be late. That, plus the stack of unfinished paperwork he was carrying, was going to equal one unhappy boss. He couldn’t really bring himself to care all that much though. His job sucked.

By the time he made it to work, he was very late. So late, in fact, that he had to park a block away and walk to the building because of the traffic cluttered around it. Now he was grouchy, tired, _and_ exasperated. Jonathan yanked the door open with a little more force than necessary, trying to think of a good, convincing excuse for when his boss inevitably cornered him. What could he say? His mom was a worrywart and she was probably rubbing off on him?

Traffic; traffic was always a solid excuse.

The receptionist at the front desk waved at him. He returned the gesture much less enthusiastically, mainly to be polite, then stalked past to start the day.

It was probably one of the longest days of Jonathan’s life. Meticulous data entry was pretty mind-numbing on a normal basis, but today it felt like torture. Jonathan couldn’t stop checking his phone every three minutes, both to look at the time and to check for any word from Chris. That, coupled with a pretty rough night of sleep and the fact that he hadn’t had time to drink coffee in the morning, led to a tough day. By the time his lunch break rolled around, words were blurring together and he was close to throwing his computer across the room.

Jonathan shoved his chair out and stood up. He was going to drink a fucking gallon of coffee and no one was going to stop him. Of course, the universe had something against him today and Friendly Co-worker #1 happened to cross paths with him at the exact wrong moment.

“Hey, Jonathan.” Zack said politely, falling into step beside him. Jonathan nodded curtly, hoping to convey the idea that he really wasn’t in the mood for this. “How’s the day been treatin’ you?”  

Jonathan sighed, apparently the message hadn’t gone through. “I’m tired and I really need some coffee. What do you want, Zack?”

The words came out a little more harshly than intended. It wasn’t like he hated the guy; he was nice enough, just... very friendly. Most of their interactions consisted of awkward hellos and drawn out pauses that Jonathan would rather avoid. Yet each day without fail, Zack Melto came to talk to him. Zack rubbed his neck, at least seeming to pick up Jonathan’s irritation and for a moment the only sound was their footsteps on the dingy ceramic flooring.

“Boss-man actually asked me to come talk to you,” he said finally. Ah, there’s the lecture Jonathan had been waiting for all morning. “He noticed you were late again this morning.”

Zack hesitated for another second, looking about as uncomfortable as Jonathan felt. “Look it’s probably not any of my business, but is there a reason you’ve been late so much? Like, do you need a ride, or a new alarm clock or something?”

A reason? He hated this job, and his life, and it was difficult to drag his ass out of bed every morning to come back and do the same menial tasks he did the day before.

Jonathan sighed.

“Let me guess, Simmons wants you to give me a ‘final warning,’ huh?”  Zack shrugged once, staring at his shoes.

“You’re a pretty good worker and all, but being late so much isn’t something he can overlook forever, I guess.”

“Alright but why send you to do the dirty work? Simmons doesn’t have the balls to come chew me out himself?”

He shrugged again,

“I’ve been covering for you.”

Jonathan stopped just outside the door to the break room and turned back to gape at his coworker.

“What? Why?”

Zack grinned and shoved Jonathan’s shoulder in a way that made him feel like he was back in high school.

“You’re a nice enough guy, I just didn’t want you to get fired because you suck at catching the bus or something.”

Jonathan had no idea how to respond to that. It was a little too friendly and enthusiastic for a coworker he’d interacted with very sparsely, so instead he just pushed open the door tossing an awkward “uh, thanks I guess” and left Zack in the hallway.

Inside, the break room smelled like stale air freshener and burnt coffee, but Jonathan didn’t really care. The last place he worked at generally smelled like cigarettes or weed, so he considered this an improvement. It was a small room, pretty much consisting of a table, a little T.V., a couple cabinets, and the coffeemaker. He kind of liked it though, it was small enough that people usually didn’t stick around for long so he didn’t have to force himself to make small talk.

Zack passed him to grab an apple from a basket perched at the back of the room. Jonathan poured himself a cup of coffee and took a large gulp of it, grimacing at the bitterness. He didn’t really like black coffee, but it took too much time and effort to sweeten it, so he usually didn’t. It tasted like piss but he needed the caffeine.

                The little T.V. next to the door was turned on. Someone here earlier probably forgot to switch it off on their way out. Jonathan turned to lean on the counter and sip his coffee. Zack sidled up to the front and settled himself at the table before biting off a chunk of his apple. Zack turned up the volume on the TV. Jonathan sipped his coffee.

It was set on a news channel, and like every other news channel the mysterious serial killer was the main topic. At least it was the only topic anyone really cared about; the world is always strangely fascinated when some maniac is trying to kill them. Jonathan was only half paying attention but the women on the screen was gesturing to a map behind her, where various little pinpoints across the US were lit up. Presumably places where the Sleepwalker left a body count. Los Angeles, San Francisco, Las Vegas, and Denver to name a few. Even some in Nebraska. What the fuck kind of serial killer went to Nebraska?

“Pretty crazy, isn’t it?” Zack said suddenly, “All this serial killer stuff.”

“Mm.” Jonathan grunted around his coffee cup, a little perturbed by how much conversation this guy could make without prompting.

“You just don’t really expect this kinda stuff to happen, but it is. I mean—” Zack gestured at the T.V. with the hand that was still clutched around an apple. “The last body they found was just across the river. This guy could be in the city somewhere and we wouldn’t even know it.”

“Yep.” Jonathan didn’t really care about the serial killer, but it seemed like everyone else on the planet did. Everyone was reading news articles, sharing safety tips and panicking—his mom started texting him every other day with new bits of information to “keep him updated,” he didn’t read them. Overall he thought everyone was giving this way too much attention, which was probably exactly what the lunatic wanted.

Still. Jonathan glanced at the screen again, to the little glowing red dot a hair's breadth away from his city and thought about Chris, and how weird it was that she didn’t call their mom. He crushed his empty cup and tossed it in the trash. The day would end soon enough and then he could stop thinking about it.

\---

The drive to Chris’ apartment wasn’t long, but he still had to punch her address into his phone’s GPS and balance it on the dashboard. She lived in a pretty nice neighborhood, much nicer than his. His apartment was shit, but it was also far away from anyone who knew him, which was what he really wanted.

When he got there the parking lot was nearly full, so he couldn’t pick out her car in the lines. She didn’t answer when he buzzed her apartment, so he buzzed every other apartment on her floor until someone did. The com crackled for a moment before a muted voice chimed in.

“ _Hello?_ ”

“Hi. I’m here to check on Christian Combs, but she’s not answering. Can you let me in?”

The com was silent and for a moment Jonathan thought they’d left, then it crackled again and the voice was back.

 _“You’re here to see Chris?”_ Another pause. _“Who is this?”_

“Jonathan Combs,” he said, then added awkwardly, “her brother.” Another hesitation.

“ _Alright, I’ll let you in. I’m not sure if Chris is home though._ ” The door clicked and Jonathan pushed it open.

“Thanks.”

He didn’t waste any time getting up to her apartment and knocked sharply on her door, then listened for a moment. He didn’t hear any movement inside so he tried again.

“Chris?” Still nothing.

Trying to choke down his irritation, Jonathan squatted down to the potted plant next to her door and dug around until he found the stupid, dirt-covered Ziploc bag she kept her spare key in “just in case.” He wiped the dirt onto his pants and opened the door.

All the lights were off except for a dim lamp next to the couch in the far corner, which meant his sister probably wasn’t home. More than a little annoyed at this point, Jonathan flipped the light switch on and closed the door behind him.

“Chris?” He tried one more time, not really expecting an answer. Her apartment consisted of one bedroom, a bathroom, and a little living room slash kitchen area. The door to her bedroom was open and even through the dim lighting he could tell it was empty. The place was pretty tidy, other than a stack of papers scattered across the coffee table. He leaned over to look at them. Student papers. Some of them were covered in red marks, others were still blank; it looked like she was in the middle of grading them. The kitchen didn’t reveal much else, there were a couple of dishes in the sink and a calendar stuck to the fridge with magnets. She didn’t have anything written down for today, Friday, or Saturday, but she had a dinner party on Sunday.  

Jonathan sighed and sat on the couch, hesitantly pulling out his phone again. No messages, none. He dialed the number. It went to voicemail again and he couldn’t help the gross feeling settling in his stomach.

“Chris, you’re really starting to freak me out now. You’re not in your apartment. Seriously if you get this call me, or Mom.” He rubbed his temple for a second then added, “I swear to God, if you dropped your phone in the toilet or something I’m going to kill you.”

He scribbled down a quick message on one of the post-it notes next to her phone, just in case she _had_ drowned her phone and came back later. When he locked her apartment he didn’t hide the key again, it didn’t feel quite right. He slipped it into his pocket instead and tried to ignore how dry his mouth had gotten.

 


End file.
